The Magnus Paradox
by HarpZephyr
Summary: "Dang it, Herondale- you're soaking wet!" His hand shifted to hold the figure down more firmly, but as he did so, a gasp of pain was let out, "Stele.Shoulder.Now." William took a moment to realize this was a Shadowhunter.  Ch6 Preview  Post-Clockwork Ange
1. Epilogue

_Notes: Okay, it's been awhile since I've written a lot, but I've had this idea in my head since I finished Cassie Clare's newest book- a true spark of brilliance, I believe - and I simply could not resist writing it down. I ask that you bear with my writing style as I am working on that throughout this project, so if you are one of those people who prefer just knowing what someone is going to say next, give this chance! I've been working on this for awhile now, refining and elaborating as I found necessary._

_*offers yummy cookie to those who R&R* Yes, that does in fact mean that you do not get a cookie if you do not R&R, and you're definitely missing out. Made them fresh when you clicked onto this page!_

_Disclaimer: you all know it, I'm sure, but I'll go ahead and say it - Cassie Clare owns Infernal Devices and Mortal Instruments, so just about all of the world and characters upon which this story is built! I own NONE of what can be found lying on the pages of her books. Happy now? I thought so. _

_Alright, now that I am done with my rambling, let the story start!_

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**Prologue**

_London, June 1878._

A fire, nearing its death in the large fireplace, had a log tossed on it which took a moment to catch, but then lit the room more fiercely than before. The parlor's rosewood furniture shone brightly in the renewed firelight, casting shadows across the floor and up the burgundy wall. Two figures stood, contemplating the flickering orange and yellow flames in the fireplace in front of them.

The hall outside the locked parlor door was empty, barely lit with small torches in ornate metal brackets that lined the walls of only the ground floor of the house. The servants of the vampire who owned the house were spread between the first and second floors, maintaining order of the place in their mistress's absence, while the warlock Magnus Bane managed several affairs of his own there in her stead.

The Shadowhunter had come to Magnus, soaked from the rain, but did not really seem to care either way about that. When Magnus had walked into the room, the boy had turned around to face him, putting his back to the fireplace. Magnus moved to stand nearer the fire, causing the boy to turn, keeping face to face with the warlock. Now his face appeared half lit while the other half was darkened by shadows.

As the boy began to speak, he was so involved with what he was telling the warlock that his surroundings seemed to matter not as his eyes lost focus and he came to stare over Magnus' shoulder, not really seeing what it was he actually looked at.

He presented an issue that Magnus knew no one in their world, Nephilim or Downworlder, had ever been privy to hear before this. The boy was noticeably stripped of all his defenses as he spoke, sounding as if he were in great pain, as if he were choking on the water that dripped down him while he talked, his voice cracking towards the end. He cleared his throat and turned partially away from the warlock, the shadows on his face deepening even as he turned towards the firelight. Silence filled the air for a moment before he finished by asking Magnus for help.

This was a boy who never asked for help. Anyone who was anyone in the London Downworld and Enclave scene knew of this kid and knew that he was normally extremely cocky, arrogant, did not care a bit about anyone besides himself, did what he pleased and above all never asked for or even indicated in the slightest needing anything from anyone. So to have him now show up in a Vampire's London town house, whether this vampire was an informant to the Clave or not, soaking wet and asking, no, pleading for Magnus' help was a situation completely out of both of their elements. Yet as Magnus regarded the Shadowhunter who stood there in front of him, who was rather oblivious to the fact that he and his clothes continued dripping water into the puddle that had formed at his feet and that he did not seem to be drying at all while standing in front of the fire, Magnus found he could not refuse. Only one other person had seen him in such a pathetic, defenseless state, and though Magnus did not know the whole of that story, he understood it was probably the only other time the boy had been so desperately in need that he was willing to actually ask someone for their help.

"I think we had better pay a visit." Magnus Bane said, turning to face the young Nephilim before him. Observing the boy, Magnus noted how water continued to streak down his face almost as if there were tears, which he began to suspect, though the boy's black hair was also completely drenched, plastering itself to his forehead. Still parchment white, he had not regained any color to his skin, since he had arrived.

With his voice only barely wavering on the last word, the boy responded, "Do you really think it wise?" His arms crossed in front of him now in a rather protective stance as shadows only he could possibly understand danced across his face.

"William Herondale," Magnus said quietly, "you came to me. Obviously you trust me enough to ask for help and therefore you also apparently trust my judgment in this matter." Magnus' voice hardened, "Do not start doubting me now if you wish to continue with this-" Magnus paused, watching William's facial features contort into a mixture of hurt, anxiety and something else.

"This was not a questioning of your judgment." William countered in a low voice. "I considered that option long before this and it did not seem plausible then, therefore I cannot see it as being plausible in the least now. It cannot possibly render anything of use to me," his eyes cast down to the floor as he finished, "to us."

"Well it's the only lead we could possibly find at the moment unless you already have something in mind." Magnus worked to cover up his frustration with the boy's lack of reasoning, reminding himself of how personal an issue this was to William. But the boy just shook his head, and Magnus indicated a certain level of sadness and possibly confusion that went with it.

Magnus started again, "This endeavor which you are set on and plan to drag me along for-"

"Drag? I'd hardly call it that." The boy's natural bored drawl edging into his voice for the first time since he had arrived at Lady Belcourt's town house to confront the warlock. "It's more like an investigation for which I am requiring the assistance of a certain informant of the Clave in order to get to the nasty details beneath an otherwise misted over cover. And you," his eyes flicked over, scanning Magnus' choice hair and dress styles before coming to rest on his face. Magnus himself was also presently scrutinizing the troubled boy standing before him.

The boy continued, "You are like my partner in crime or something similar." He turned his head slightly away from the fire, towards the warlock.

Magnus spent a moment to reassess William's stance and facial features before responding. "You _are_ paying me for this. Like any other London Downworlder, at the moment, all I want is to understand her powers. There truly is nothing like her. I do not mean to utilize her for anything other than to fulfill my curiosity, yet - she shows no signs of otherwise being a warlock. But how? Is there any possibility that she simply has a bit of demon in her, yet is mostly human, therefore probably denoting her not as a warlock but half-breed human?"

"You're rambling, you realize?" William coolly watched the Warlock consider his options.

Magnus glanced up, "Yes, but don't you wonder as well? Downworlders and Nephilim alike have never seen such a creature, such a creation-"

"That's what she is," he interrupted, "someone's creation. Intentional, with years of planning and refining. Does anyone truly know her function?" William said darkly.

"Besides the upper members of the Pandemonium Club, I doubt it."

"So if you would like that chance to actually begin trying to understand her, then you'll help me. Well, that or once we're done here, we track down the so-called mundane 'Magister,' torture him until he tells us what she is supposedly capable of, kill him and make off with her!" A bit of a grin played around William's mouth before he took on a rather cynical look, staring back into the fire.

Noticing this, Magnus recalled why he had such a hard time justifying the boy's beauty. _Things which are striking and beautiful_, Magnus thought, _are not always good_. And that was what rubbed him the wrong way with this boy. Beauty always struck Magnus as a great wonder, yet something was off with this one instance of it.

William always maintained a look of boredom and yet slight amusement, mixed with a hint of cynicism. The only thing he could appear more of was cynical. Never anything else. Except maybe rash and arrogant or even cold and calculating, but, really, cynicism lay underneath it all. His black hair lay limp and slightly tangled, covering part of his forehead and his blue eyes, his impossibly blue eyes which held so much, yet told so little. Right now, though the light of the fire was probably playing tricks, Magnus noted a great mix of emotions, from immense anger to great humor, being held back. And then those lips which apparently knew not how to smile, much less laugh; sure, they dabbled in a smirk or a slight grin here and there, and that was of some combination of self-amusement and overconfidence. But never did they truly smile.

Magnus exhaled and began again, "I personally think it best if we pay someone, or rather somewhere, a visit right now. They won't miss you at the Institute, tonight will they?"

With his hands clasped behind his back, William spun on his heel to fully face Magnus and responded. "Nope, never do and probably never shall." He glanced around the room. "So, a portal then?"

Magnus gave a quick nod before setting to work on opening a portal.

_New York, 2009._

Had there been daylight, a single ear bud could just have been seen in one of the ears while the other no doubt hung loose underneath the black zipped up jacket. Dark blonde hair hung down, covering the headphone wire as well as most the neck of the jacket, which, had it been even slightly undone, would have opened to bare skin, revealing layers of pale scars on the fair skin. One black strap from a navy blue backpack was slung over the left shoulder, trapping some hair underneath it. Normally, a pair of rectangular sunglasses would have just hidden the dark cobalt blue eyes from view, but it was presently too dark to see with them on. One gloved hand was shoved in a jacket pocket, the other swung at its owner's side, rather carelessly.

It was around midnight and the yellowing lamps overhead did little to influence the already well-lit streets as the ever-changing lights from billboards and skyscrapers towering over blocks and blocks of the city dominated lighting the city's nightscape. The subway seemed to be the only self-lit area.

No one noticed the lamps all flicker slightly, briefly casting odd shadows originating from one seemingly empty spot on the sidewalk leading to the subway entrance. No one saw a figure slip underground to the trains that ran underneath New York City at pretty much all hours. No one knew that two seats were taken up by someone and a backpack, just across the main aisle of the train from a tired-looking nurse still wearing part of her uniform. No one noticed that someone got off several stops later, walking only a few blocks before turning to face a renovated gothic-style church that really no longer existed in that spot. No one heard a voice softly mumbling before reaching and opening the ornate door at the front of the church. No one saw a figure slip silently inside the church and approach an elevator at the far end, pushing the button that would allow access to the main part of the Institute. No one knew this person even existed. Except for the cat.

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_Dun-dun-dunnnnn... Hope you enjoyed this- I promise more to come and soon! _

_ ~Miss M_


	2. Chapter 1

_Heya, so I know it was a short time after uploading the first part of this, but I only recently split this and the epilogue apart. It made loads more sense that way.  
__This takes place in New York, modern day (well, 2009) still._

_Well enjoy the next bit! I promise to upload again soon._

_

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**Chapter 1**

Church sat silently staring at the elevator doors, flicking his tail back and forth in the darkness, willing the doors to hurry up and open.

The elevator was miraculously quiet for its model and age and Jay silently thanked the Angel for it.

Church knew it was no intruder when the doors finally opened, spilling light into the marble hall and casting a shadow behind him. Jay did not know why, but there was some level of trust already built up between the two, so she only had to raise both eyebrows expectantly for Church to comprehend the level of confidentiality necessary that Jay was even here in the first place. In response, he simply started walking down the hall, Jay following.

After navigating a couple of staircases and hallways, the room Church finally led Jay into was fully furnished with a bed, small table with a lamp, dresser, chair and fully functioning bathroom attached. It was on a floor that held about a hundred or so more pretty-much identical rooms, all presently empty. This floor was rarely used or even visited by the occupants of the Institute.

Jay quietly slipped the backpack onto the chair and closed the door softly, after watching the cat's tail disappear around a corner down the hall.

* * *

Having opened the shades the night before, light spilled through the window, across the ceiling and just touched the top of the opposite wall as the sun peaked over the edge of the buildings to the East of the Institute. Jay briefly opened one eye to note the time on the watch sitting on top of the backpack before closing it again.

"Church, no!" A voice whispered loudly from down the hall, causing Jay to open both eyes and flip to face the door. Jay could hear Church dragging something away from the door, off down the hall, and wondered if it was food.

"Damn it." The voice was closer now and just as loud. "Drop that, already." Styrofoam could be heard ripping, and Church hissed. "That is disgusting." The voice said, "Why would you want to drag left over Chinese food down the hall? It's not like you even liked it when I gave you some last night." Church sneezed.

Jay looked around, grabbing the open backpack, jacket and watch off the chair, and quickly smoothing the bed cover down. Luckily Jay had slept on top of them last night, having been too tired to do anything but flop down on the bed and pass out. By the time Church was back at the bedroom door, Jay was estimating the drop to the ground from out the bathroom window. But Church was not alone.

Between the time the bedroom doorknob started to twist open and Church darted through to the bathroom to sit staring up at the open window, Jay had squeezed through the tiny window, backpack and all, just gripping onto the lower window ledge, and was about to push off from the outer ledge when someone said, "I wouldn't jump just yet. Maryse left a few hours ago to answer a distress call from one of the downworld bars having demon issues and is probably going to return soon. She's sure to see you if you are out there when she does."

Jay braced against the wall, feet slowly inching up the stonework towards the window. "So I get to enjoy breakfast after all." Pulling back onto the ledge, Jay took the hand that was offered out the window Jay slid back into the bathroom to find Jace Wayland standing there, face to face with her, staring and holding a torn up take-out box of Chinese food.

"It's five-thirty in the morning. What the hell are you doing awake? Much less alive?" Snatching the Chinese food out of Jace's hands, Jay poked at the vegetable and rice mixture, and started eating around the chicken bits.

"I should be the one asking questions. What are you doing in the New York Institute of all places?" Jace raised an eyebrow. "I guess I should have assumed you would have survived. I just didn't think we'd run into each other again after that."

Jay didn't answer, but continued picking through the Chinese food.

"Jay, answer me." Jace's eyes flashed a bit of emotion, probably anger with a hint of confusion, but otherwise his facial expression gave off a look of boredom.

Finishing all but the meat in the box, Jay looked up, reasoning out the situation in her head. "Why not the New York Institute?"

"What brings you here as opposed to Beijing? London? Boston? Chicago? Or what about Idris? Why not just stay there? He is dead after all."

Jay tensed. "I- I didn't know. I've been too busy tracking to pay attention to the real world."

"Don't make up excuses. How it is possible for you _not_ to have heard?" Jace watched Jay close the styrofoam box, move to set it on the counter and turn on the sink to wash off sticky rice and sauce remnants from her hands.

"I just hadn't, alright. It's Jonathan Morgenstern I'm after. He disappeared."

Jace stared out the window, "He's dead."

"No, I meant after you supposedly killed him. I saw that by the way. Nicely done, except for one thing."

Suddenly, Jace moved swiftly to shut the window before flipping around to face Jay. "Maryse is back. I'm supposed to be downstairs. I'm pretty sure she saw me just now, though. We'll finish this conversation later. Consider your next words carefully, though." All of this was said hastily and he had reached the door to the hall now. "Now, go play dead." And he disappeared, pulling the door shut, mumbling, "Like you aren't any good at that in the first place. Stupid pure-bred Mutt." Jay could just hear him half laughing to himself softly down the hall.

* * *

Church lay next to Jay on the bed, his tail once again flicking back and forth just slightly, as if waiting for something to happen. Jay, lying crossways on the bed, stared up at the ceiling. An open book lay face up next to Church, Jay's hand resting awkwardly on it to stop the pages from flipping. The light from outside was dimming as the sun set, trailing across the wall behind Jay, just reaching the ceiling as Jay took a deep breath.

Once Jace had left after warning her not to get caught by Maryse jumping out of Institute windows, Jay had merely slipped into the room across the hall and fallen back asleep, this time under the covers.

Around noon, Church had woken Jay back up by leaping on top of the covers in order to get Jay to follow him. Maryse and Robert Lightwood, who ran the New York Institute, were busy sending their children, Alexander and Isabelle, together to Idris for a long weekend to sort out some things with the Penhallow family and, separately, the Clave. Due to this distraction, Church was able to lead Jay to the kitchen, where there were plenty of leftovers, few dirty dishes – solely eating utensils rather than pots and plates - for it seemed no one in the family was very into cooking. And then they made their way to another floor, one of many filled with rooms for Shadowhunters' use while staying at the Institute. This floor, like the last, was pretty much unused save the library at one end of it.

Church had led Jay to the opposite end of the floor from the library first, however. Dumping off the backpack that was now stuffed with bits of food from the kitchen, Jay picked up Church, absentmindedly stroking him, while heading down to poke around the library.

Just Jay's luck, however, that was exactly where Maryse Lightwood was heading for after sending off her kids. Her voice had echoed down the hall and staircase as she reminded her husband of something and Church made a rather strange growl-like sound at the back of his throat before leaping out of Jay's arms, hitting the floor on all fours, sliding slightly forward on the marble floor, and sprinted off through the opening door just as Maryse cracked it open. Church's brief distraction gave Jay just barely enough time to duck out of plain sight behind a giant bookcase stacked with books and leaving no room for Maryse to see through. Jay still held the book Church had meandered over to and was sniffing on a bottom shelf when they first entered the library.

Bookshelves, all with few empty spaces, particularly on the lower halves of the shelves, lined the walls as well as were spread out in row after row across the floor, giving enough coverage and hiding spots for Jay to eventually make it to the door without Maryse noticing any sign of movement. Getting through the door would be the trickiest part, however.

Right then, the door had opened a second time, for a warlock, Magnus Bane, entering. Maryse had not looked up however, seeing as she probably was expecting him.

Magnus saw Jay, who froze, eyes wide, but he gave a quick smile and winked, making sure to hesitate a little longer before letting go of the door handle behind him. Without saying anything, he gave Jay the chance to slip out into the hall without ever being noticed by Maryse.

Still holding the book, Jay silently slipped back down the hall behind Church, who had waited rather patiently a few doors down from the library after surprising Maryse.

And it was there they stayed for several hours, Church coming and going as he pleased, Jay reading and dozing, hoping Jace would come in so they could finish their conversation, allowing Jay to finally leave the Institute.

Jay did not belong here anyway.

* * *

There was a slight knock at the already partially opened door which was due to Church's comings and goings. Jay must have dosed off once again. The book was sitting open on Jay's chest, and a styrofoam box with a bit of salad and bread crumbs in it was still open on the bed. Jay sat up abruptly at the sound, grabbing at the book before it clattered to the ground.

Sliding off the bed so that it was between Jay and the door, Jay readied to face the intruders, one hand grasping a knife from underneath the black jacket that had been pretty much thrown across the chair next to the window.

The door was pushed wide open and two figures, both of which Jay recognized, stepped in. Magnus Bane, the taller of the two on the right and Jace, shutting the door on the left.

"Can I help you?" Jay inquired, warily eyeing the warlock, but released the knife under the jacket.

Magnus smiled at Jay for the second time that day, his smile reaching his eyes, warming up his face, glitter and all. "Jayden Wayland." He looked genuinely pleased with himself, "It's been over a century!"


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Jay stiffened and Jace turned to look confusedly at Magnus Bane.

"That name is one I've only ever heard once before in my life." Jay began.

"Wayland?" Jace looked from Magnus to Jay and back.

Jay stopped Magnus from answering, "But isn't Jace's last name-"

Jace spoke up quickly, "Long story short, after Wayland, it was Morgenstern-"

Jay was alarmed, "As in Valentine? You can't b-"

Jace interrupted again, closing his eyes as he recited it all, "Then it was, is, really Herondale – recall Celine Herondale was eight months pregnant when she committed suicide, but" He opened his eyes and grinned, "seeing as my real family is the one here at the New York Institute, I like Lightwood."

"Lightwood," Jay repeated, pondering the idea. "I prefer Herondale. It's who you really are. And besides, all I can think of is Alexander when I say Lightwood."

"And you are no Alec." Magnus snorted to himself.

"Wait, but I thought the Wayland family were all dead." Jace finished from his earlier question.

Magnus smirked slightly, "And I thought we had gotten used to the idea of Valentine making mistakes and assuming wrong."

"Valentine make a mistake?" Jace gasped in mock horror, "Isn't there some unwritten set of rules including the golden one 'Valentine is always right'?"

"I'd say that would be silver since gold is 'you're all useless shit anyway, Nephilim, Downworlder and demon alike.'"

"Well, shit."

Jace raised an eyebrow only vaguely aware of what Magnus and Jace meant but said nothing.

"Back to the Waylands." Jace hurriedly said. Instead of Jay, Jace asked the questions. "So, Jonathan Wayland, the one who died, was a girl?"

"Impossible." Magnus countered, "After the fire, the Clave found his remains along with everyone else they knew that lived or worked there. And besides, think about that. How would she be standing before us now if she had died?"

"Then maybe that wasn't the female Jonathan Wayland but an imposter." Jace was flustered.

Magnus glanced, amused, at Jace, "Wrong again." And then he looked back at Jay.

"There seems to be so many children descended from the Circle that went awry if any of this is the case." Jace mused.

Magnus nodded, "Yes, that does seem to be our issue here, though I believe this is the last of the unknowns."

Jace looked at Jay. After a moment, speaking softly, he said, "But she isn't unknown._ I_ grew up knowing her."

"So Jayden told me." Magnus paused to choose his words carefully while Jay thought, _I did?_

Then Magnus continued, "You wouldn't believe what she's gone through."

Jace laughed, "And is that in comparison to me?"

Magnus silently continued watching the girl take it all in, allowing Jay to speak. "I think that's a 'yes' Jace, seeing as I apparently knew Magnus over one hundred years ago." Her voice faltered as she that, but continued pointedly at Magnus now, "Tell me about that."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Why not? That's really an impossible feat for a Shadowhunter. Any are lucky to live past thirty years of age, but more than a hundred? Impossible. We were kids together, the same age as far as we could discern then, not one hundred-forty-eight and eight."

Magnus simply smiled, "I said it was around a century, not a century and a half. And that's something you'll have to discuss later, in about a year I believe. What's the date, again?"

"Late June, I think." Jay said at the same time as Jace interjected, "Why?"

His eyes stared out the window behind Jay, "You'll understand in due time." Focusing once again on Jay, Magnus told her, "I live here now as the High Warlock of New York City, so if you have anything else reasonable you can ask me, call or look me up and come over. Jace can also help you if he's not too busy. But we'll being seeing each other again soon. I can promise you that much."

Jace stared after the warlock, his mouth partially open in disbelief, as Magnus, all glittery and smiling to himself, whisked out of the room, heading for the elevator.

Jay was quiet for a moment before asking Jace, "So… your point in bringing him here was?"

Jace wiped off his look of incredulity, replacing it with one of confusion and contemplation. "He requested it actually. After running into you in the library, he said he wanted to meet you. I didn't know that you two knew each other!" His eyes met Jay's.

Jay looked just as confused as Jace did, "Neither did I. And whatever this is about living a century ago, well, is he on crack or demon juice or something?"

"He _is_ part demon being a Downworlder and all. Yeah I have no idea. But does demon juice really ex-" Jace suddenly looked genuinely interested, before Jay cut him off.

"I" Jay thought for a moment, "doubt it."

Jace sighed and changed the subject. "Listen, I've got a dinner date. You want to tag along as some random friend from another part of the world? Maybe you can fake an accent?"

Jay grinned, "Yeah I don't think that plan will go over as well as you seem to hope, me being related to the Waylands and all. Your dinner date is probably with people who knew them well and would for sure find me somehow familiar."

Jace shrugged, "Just offering dinner, that's all. Clary could come up with some glamour mark to hide who you truly are from other Shadowhunters. I could call ahead and set that up if you were willing to take the risk."

"No, I don't think that risk is wise to take. Anyway, who was the one warning me about Maryse Lightwood this morning?" Jay smiled pointedly with her next comment, "And who was pissed off with me this morning?"

"I was more surprised than pissed, I'd say." Jace defended himself. "Like a happy surprise that showed itself at the wrong hour of the morning."

"Yeah, because you accusing me of being alive as well as in New York unexpectedly, somewhere I would never have placed you, either, is happy and surprising as opposed to something that just pisses you off."

Jace frowned slightly, "Drop the sarcasm. I don't have time to deal with you right now if you are going to be like that." He grabbed at the door knob behind him and started to twist it.

"We've still got a conversation to finish and my trail is going cold. Actually, I may have already lost it seeing as it has been an entire day."

Jace glared at her, "Well who decided it was a good idea to stay at the nearest Institute for the night only to get caught by a ghost from their past? Yes, that would be you."

Jay scowled back, "Like I had any other choice. You try being not just dead but nonexistent to multiple worlds. I'm just lucky that the _thing_ I'm tracking doesn't know I exist."

"Being nonexistent is the easy one." Jace snapped back. "Playing dead is hard because you risk having people recognize not just who you could be related to and making judgments based off what they think they know, but also recognizing you for you."

Jay dropped the book she had been holding on the bed. There were now-permanent imprints of where her fingers had squeezed the binding.

"In your case," Jace continued to spit his poison, "you are lucky to have only ever known me. Not Valentine, not the Clave, none of the Circle, and definitely not Jonathan Morgenstern. You are damn lucky. Being dead as well as nonexistent is plenty easy. You just didn't have to drag your deceased imaginary sorry self here." With that he shut the door behind and stocked off down the hall towards the stairs near the library.

Jay glared up at the ceiling for a moment before opening her backpack and taking out scrap paper and a pen.

* * *

_How is my attempt at humor with Jace and Magnus? It's funny in my head, I just want to make sure that I'm portraying it all right to you!_  
_R&R por favor!_

_~ Miss M_


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

When Jace returned to the Institute from Clary's he was in a much better mood than when he had left. He knew he had to make some sort of amends with Jay if she was going to listen to him at all after earlier. Jace refused to take full blame for the blowup between the two of them; after all, he had reason to be pissed at someone who had made him think for several years they were dead. But then again, this was certainly not the first time he had been made to believe that Jay was gone for good. She had pulled similar stunts before, each time inadvertently running into Jace sometime later.

Both knew neither meant for the other to find out the truth. They had a complicated relationship and at the end of the day never took anything between them for granted. Whatever happened was not exactly meant to hurt one another. It was more for their own good. Jay's disappearances and lack of contact, except in person (and purely by circumstance), with Jace were not Jay spiting him but rather an odd sort of defense for both of them. The less the other knew, the better off both were for survival reasons. That Jay had figured the second time she had run into Jace after he thought her to be dead. He had agreed.

Nevertheless, Jace found himself believing she was truly dead every time she had ended up in a situation that should have left either her or both of them, if Jace managed to get involved, for dead. Yet, as it appeared, the two of them made it out alive, if just barely, every single time, though without knowledge of the other doing so as well, but nor did they ever pursue that knowledge.

Jace shook his head as he headed down the Institute's long hall, passing the empty rooms of the Lightwood children before reaching his own.

Hurriedly dumping his jacket off before running up to the room Jay was hiding in, he just barely noticed a small piece of paper on his pillow with vaguely familiar bad handwriting. Unfolding it, he scanned the paper once not taking in a word of it, his mind whirling about where she could possibly have gone.

He closed his eyes for a moment to stem the rapid flow of thoughts before he really looked at the paper. He wasn't holding a proper note like most people would have left. Instead, it was a ripped off corner from some piece of paper that was fairly old and creased all over with scribbled notes on one side, mostly in Jay's handwriting. The other side had a single line written. Jace took the note, smoothing it out along the edge of the table, and set it down to read. '_had Questions'_ was all she put in her departing message to Jace.

Jace twisted around, grabbing his jacket back up and went to walk out the door before realizing he had forgotten the note on the table.

As he made his way out of the Institute, Jace flipped over the scrap of paper to read the back of the paper, what he had originally mistaken to be the note. There was one bit of printed type otherwise surrounded by handwriting. The print drew his attention, however: it was page number like in the corner of a book. Jace realized this had in fact been torn out of a book.

Focusing on the handwriting one word caught his eye. Not sure why he missed it earlier when he confused this side for the note, Jace froze where he was, his hand on the gate to exit onto the street, and read what Jay had written.

_- real Jonathan Morgenstern - sister Clarissa  
__- Demon blood Shadowhunter -__ tan, white-blond hair (dyed black)  
__- Heals dif than Nephilim - __Jace's death blow: __healed  
__- Hunting to kill  
__[__NYC__]_

The word 'real' at the beginning was in a different pen color than the rest of the notes on Jonathan; it was the same, however, as the note from Jay had been written in.

Jace glanced quickly around him, slid through the gate and then set off at a sprint.


	5. Chapter 4

_Note: This chapter went in a slightly different direction than planned diving a bit more into Jay's history than I intended. I had been hoping just get to where I was at with the next chapter. And I do indeed have the next section of the story written ~ reason being, they are the mental vision I originally had that ended up turning into this story. Sadly, I may have to make what I intended for this chapter into a second chapter before we get to the event from which this whole story idea stemmed ._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Mortal Instruments or Infernal Devices, Cassandra Clare does!_

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**Chapter 4**

Jay had paused before leaving the Institute to wolf down leftovers, look up Magnus' address, notably with much trouble, and narrowly avoid one of the Lightwoods, so they had been conversing for about an hour now when Magnus' doorbell buzzed. He smiled at Jay and went out to open the front door. Jay heard the door creak partly open and then a bit of a loud whisper from Magnus before it went silent.

She had practiced this many times and had recent success with it when the time came to use this technique. Jay focused on the clock in the corner of the room, working to quiet as well as sync her heart to the clock's ticking.

Having gathered as much information as she could and then been tracking Jonathan Morgenstern for awhile now, Jay knew several things that were disadvantages to all those who had no extra amount of special power due to unknown experimentation on as a fetus. Like Clarissa Morgenstern, Jayden too had had experiments done on her, but without Valentine knowing about it. What set Jay apart from Clary, as Jace had called her, was that Valentine never realized she existed. As for Valentine killing her entire family, a friend of her mother's had been taking care of her the day the Wayland manor burnt to the ground.

Jay knew very little about her background and past besides the fact that she was Jonathan Christopher Wayland's twin and had not been expected to make it. Under the cover of excitement surrounding her brother's birth, her own was not announced as she was put into intensive care immediately after being unwrapped from a strangling grip from her umbilical cord. She had been tinged the color blue, yet was miraculously breathing, or at least gasping, when born.

Few knew besides herself and apparently Magnus Bane that Michael Wayland's wife was Valentine's first angel experiment, which he conducted the same time as Jonathan Morgenstern, his son. He had not known about Jayden when she and her twin were born. As for Jonathan Christopher, he had been a major disappointment in accordance to the experiment, showing no signs of what Valentine had intended. Apparently in the womb, the cord which should have killed Jayden took up the special angelic concoctions given to her mother and fed them to Jayden seeing as she was the weaker of the twins by far. Her brother, on the other hand, grew normally without needing the angelic powers to sustain him through their birth. Without the angel drinks, Jayden would not have made it.

Even after being fused with angel blood, Jayden was still a high risk baby, taking several years to catch up to where a normal child her age would be, developmentally. By fifteen, though, she measured just under average height and size (not including muscles from Shadowhunter training), excelled in book and street smarts, as well as had a quick mind - all of which made her a brilliant Shadowhunter, particularly as a tracker, as Jayden had discovered.

After the twins' birth, for Jay's sake, her mother had not let even her father know about her existence and instead trusted a friend, who lived in Idris just outside Alicante and had extensive medical knowledge, to raise Jayden for the first couple of years with her being a high risk baby and in case she did not make it. All of this she claimed to her friend was so as to not bring shame to the family.

Jay vaguely recalled being told several years after the incident that her parents and brother had died. Up until that point, she had not really known any of them existed. Allegedly her mother had visited a few times with her brother while they were still alive, but Jay had been too young.

Of course, her childhood was not something Jay worked to remember- she tried to live more in the moment, being a tracker and such, rather then focus on any of her background which she believed could only bring trouble. However, there were three important things from her past she did hold onto, the first being the last name she had grown up knowing: Carstairs.

Her second real memory was of running away. After awhile of walking, she had come to a fork in the road not knowing that it led, one way, to the Wayland manor and the other to the Morgenstern manor, with Lake Lyn set off to the far side of the latter. She had been eight years old.

It was then she had first met Jace, though he called himself Jonathan back then. Valentine had left for 'a business trip' just that morning, allowing for she and Jace to spend time together without getting caught. After about three or four days of bliss, Jay had gone out, meandering aimlessly and ending back up on the main road by herself only to run into her worried guardian. While her punishment made no long term impression, being forbidden to go back to that manor ever again stayed in the back of Jay's mind .

The final important memory was the only she was ever left at the house alone. Jay had just turned thirteen then and her guardian had had to leave in order to take care of some business, though Jay knew not where or for what. She had been told her guardian would return in a weeks time. Jay was given the cellar key with instructions about meals and told to continue her studies. She also got a piece of paper with the name of the nearest trusted acquaintance of her guardian's - the warlock Ragnor Fell - and on the back, instructions for Ragnor as to a place of safety to send Jay via portal, if necessary. Jay was unable to read the instructions following that, but would have bet then that the portal would take her directly to wherever her guardian was.

Just over an hour after her guardian had departed with a brief hug and firm orders to stay safe, Jay had flown the coop, herself, heading down a road she had travelled alone only once previous. It had been five years, but Jay at the time had figured it was worth a shot. She could barely stem her flow of excitement and not start sprinting, but her judgment had gotten the better of her and by midday she was watching the fork in the road she had once blindly come across getting closer and closer from the horizon.

Idris's weather had not been ideal then as clouds moved in from the East and a brisk, yet soft wind mussed up her hair. Jay recalled glancing down the long winding dirt road that she had not taken last time. The tip of a roof could be seen just over the hilly horizon, and slightly curious, she had taken a step in that direction before remembering her original intents for coming to this place at all. With one last glance to the ornate roof of the enigmatic institution that lay beyond, Jay had shoved the exploratory inclinations to the back of her mind and started down the path she had chosen half a decade earlier.

Approaching the manor, Jay could easily spot the tan, golden-haired boy she had met once before solemnly staring out the library window. Jay had walked onto the grass from the road and waited until Jace spotted her. Though it took a moment, when he did, Jace had straightened, a worried look suddenly clouding his face. Moments later, Jay was being anxiously led by the twelve year old back up the road. She could not get a straight answer out of the kid other than that it was not wise for her to ever seek him out. Again. End of story.

Back at the fork, she had been given a quick lopsided grin of apology, before his hand left her shoulder and the only kid her age Jay had ever really known to appreciate and share her sense of the world sprinted out of sight.

Her guardian had trained her to deal with disappointment as a part of Shadowhunter training, but this did not seem the same. Not knowing entirely why, Jay had trudged back home and thenceforth put all efforts into her Shadowhunter training, the only destiny she really knew for herself.

She reflected on these few memories, lingering on the final one which had led to her to be introduced to the solitary art of tracking in the winter following her last encounter with Jace, through which Jay had learned to take care of herself in all situations as well as was taught the rules of the outside world, especially what was required of all the Institutes in terms of Shadowhunters passing through. By fourteen, she was taking on missions from various Institutes around the world via the Clave.

On only the first was she not alone for her guardian insisted on showing her the city to which she was asked: Beijing, an overcrowded labyrinth, when attempting to proceed undetected. This was her third time outside of Idris, her second major tracking (to kill) assignment from the Clave, her first run in with foolish mundanes who believed they knew their way about in her world, her last time needing any support to desensitize herself to killing.

Recalling the experience, Jay shivered mentally. She opened her eyes having heard no one approach yet. Her heart beat was undetectable by anyone listening; it was her breathing that worried Jay most. Having no grasp of the situation, Jay silently stood, thanking the warlock for not being able to bear a creaky floor and having to "fix" it with his powers. The silencing charms worked wonders in Jay's favor as she neared the hall way and then advanced slowly towards the open front door.

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_AN: I have a conversation (well, more an argument) written up between Jay and Jace while in Idris when Jace is getting rid of Jay- it is presently summarized in about two or three short sentences. If you want me to add it into this chapter or something, let me know. I took it out because it seemed like too much of a tangent since it was just Jay reflecting on memories while in Magnus' living room hoping not to be attacked (yes - that's a hint)… if you'd rather I get on with the story, just say so too ;)_

_The next chapter I'm struggling with because it has to flow well into the next section which I have already written, but it's coming along, if slowly. I do hope to post it sooner than later!_


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